It's 10:04 pm, Oct 27, 2023. I'm laying in bed crying about all the things that would be, If only I had self control. The things that could be, If I just tried harder to convince you I'm the right person for you. The things that should be, such as an eternity of happiness with someone who loves me as much as I love them. Tell me why It won't work out. Stop saying you love her and just put a pacifier in her mouth to shut her up, you say you love her but you're lying. Tell me, what is important to you? Is it me? Say it's me, I'm not crazy I promise. She's getting on my nerves. Tell me, how do you fake it that long? Stop lying with those words. Tell me, the real question is what I've been aimlessly thinking about this entire sleepless midnight. You don't love her, but what is love?
What is love? Great question, Is it immortal? Does it die out eventually? Is it truly an energy that lasts forever? I hate love, it is one of the most addictive and deadly drugs out there. Love is a hallucinogen, so deceptive but the wonderland was fun while it lasted. I know what love is, it's a labyrinth. You will never escape, you will either die alone and miserable, or if you do find your way out like one of the lucky ones; you'll live the ideal life, congrats. So let me ask again, what is love? C'mon, tell me, what do you think love is? I'll tell you what I could figure out from "context clues".
Love is, a friend. Love is, listening to music. Love is, everything that is peaceful. Love is, initiative to do what is right. Love is, sleeping through the night. Love is, telling the truth. Love is, emerging from your past mistakes. Love is, running from your problems. Love is... Love is... Love is... Love is, digging a deeper grave. Love is, ill intent for the right intentions. Love is, greater than the whole sky. Love is, Innovative to new ideas. Love is, obsolete to the heartbroken. Love is, if things work out. Finally, love is, all but nothing If I can't have you...
I'm impatient, and I hate to wait, I get fooled from a simple fabled taste. I never asked for any of your takes or your opinions, you are all selfish and disgraceful. The truth is that I have no one to prove myself to but myself. And the reality is, as much as you've managed to make me hate you, I still feel lovestruck and I still feel homesick and I still feel like I know what I'm doing. This love is treacherous, yet I still like it. You twist words and their meanings, you say "love" in different ways to see its verbal change. You say it again and again to change what it becomes. It lingers like a stream of blood crawling down your arm, trying to find its way back to your heart with no hope of return whatsoever. You're what's keeping me up, trying to escape the labyrinth of love, on silent, subtle, and nostalgic midnights like this.
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Midnights Like This
RomanceOur minds work differently at midnight, sometimes we think about what could be, tomorrow. Sometimes we think about what could've been, ages ago. Sometimes we think about what we could do to change to next day, and sometimes there's just no going bac...
